A Twisted Secret
by HardyBoyz4Eva
Summary: Brock/Adam. Jay/Adam, E&C. In 2002, Brock Lesnar brutally assaulted Adam. Days later, he was released from his contract with the WWE and left for UFC. Now, he makes his return in 2012, as violent as ever. Only, this time, Adam has a secret. Her name is Lachrymose. She's Brock Lesnar's ten-year-old daughter. Slash. Full list of warnings inside. Please Review!
1. Intro

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Non-Con, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, etc.

Adam stared down at the little white device in his hand, his entire body trembling with fear. The little pink LED on the small screen spoke louder than words ever could. He could still feel the monster's fingers on his body, in his body, _everywhere_. His skin crawled at the very thought of it. If he could have, he would have bleached the memory from his brain. He would have pushed it so far down into his memory that it would dissolve into nothingness and he would never be faced with it again…

But instead, he sat on the floor in his best friend's bathroom, unable to look away from the little device that Jay had bought him three days ago. He hadn't had the strength to do it alone. He needed his best friend and Jay was there, happily there, to take him in his arms and hold him close, and offer him promises of safety and security. The only reason that he had gathered the courage to take the test was the knowledge that Jay was waiting in the hallway, waiting for an answer.

And soon, there was a knock on the door. Adam didn't have to tell him the door was unlocked, didn't even have to open his mouth, because it was Jay's house and Jay just let himself inside. They locked eyes for a minute, before Jay fell to his knees beside his best friend. He hooked an arm around Adam's shoulders and drew him into his chest, listening to Adam's shuddering breaths. Adam didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of this.

"Is it...?" He didn't even have to ask. He already knew the answer.

"Y-Yes." Adam choked out. "I'm pregnant." And then he broke down into sobs.\


	2. An Unwanted Encounter

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lachrymose and Lauren.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Non-Con, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

**Ten Years Later**

Lachrymose clutched Adam's hand with her left, while the other snaked around her favorite teddy bear. Quietly, she sat in the hospital waiting room, waiting for news on Jay's condition. "Mommy?"

Adam looked down at his little girl out of the corner of his eye, before his attention returned to the book on his lap. "What is it, baby doll?" He asked distractedly. This was her fifth question in as many minutes.

"What if they can't fix Jay's shoulder with the operation?" She asked, her blue eyes fixed on her fraying teddy bear. "What if they tell him that he can't wrestle anymore?" She continued, disheartened.

Adam sighed. "You're reading too much into it, sweetie. The doctor assured us that it's a routine operation, they do it all the time. The chances of something like that happening are less than one percent."

Lachrymose turned to him, her cool blue eyes focused on Adam's pretty face. "Do you know how many numbers are between zero and one? There are so many, you can't even count them."

Adam continued to focus on his book. "You're reading too much into it. Try not to worry about it so much. Imagine what Jay would feel like if he could see you worrying so much."

Solemnly, Lachrymose snatched her hand away from Adam's and started to pick at the fluff as it erupted from her teddy bear. When this didn't gain the expected reaction from the tall blond beside her, she shot him a callous, bone-chilling look out of the corner of her eye. Still, nothing. Finally, with a huff, she turned herself around on the chair so that her back was to him, her little arms crossed over the bear tucked to her chest.

Adam frowned, feeling his fingers tense around the sides of the book. He was thankful that it was a hardback edition. Silently, he started a slow countdown from one-hundred. It was the only way to draw his blood back from the boil that currently churned within his veins. Adam liked to consider himself a patient man, he really did, but Lachrymose took every nerve within him and burned it like it was a fuse. She was a troublemaker.

Ever since her birth, Adam had been careful to keep her true origins from her. He didn't want her to know that she was the child of a forced coupling. Really, all she knew was that her father was out of the picture and that Jay was her 'father' now – though she never really referred to him as 'Dad'. However, he couldn't help but see little bits of Brock shine through as she got older. Take this situation, for example. She was stubborn as hell.

Slowly, Adam closed his book. He was determined not to slam it. "Lachrymose, turn around please. You know how to sit properly on a chair, and that's not it."

Lachrymose turned her head just enough to look him in the eye, before she stuck her tongue out. "Make me."

Adam could see that her behavior was attracting the attention of several other parents. "Sweetheart, you're causing a scene. Now, just turn around -,"

Lachrymose cut him off, still not obeying his request. "No."

Adam's hands tightened around the book. "Why not?"

She shrugged, not bothering to turn around. "Because I don't feel like it."

It was a rather immature answer that could only come from a ten-year-old child. "Yeah, well, a lot of people do things in life, even if they don't feel like doing them. Do you know why?"

She didn't move. "Why?"

"Because their Mommy's told them to."

Lachrymose seemed to consider this for a moment, before she shrugged once again and went back to picking the fluff out of her stuffed doll. She didn't turn around. Adam sighed, realizing that he would get absolutely nowhere with this child, and went back to his book. He was only about five pages in when Lachrymose slid off of her seat and started to walk across the room, to where the kiddie area was set up.

He watched her rifle through the books for a minute, before she selected a nice, thick edition of _Disney Princess Stories_. She raced over to Adam, shoving the book onto his lap rather unceremoniously. Adam didn't pay it any attention. Lachrymose knew better than to think that she had behaved well enough for story time. But still, the ten-year-old didn't take the hint. She pushed the book into his stomach rather forcefully.

"Read to me, Mommy!" She exclaimed loudly, calling attention to them once again.

Adam closed the book and set it aside. He wouldn't get anymore reading done, as it turned out. "Why should I? You didn't listen to me when I told you to sit correctly on the chair, did you?"

She looked guilty for a minute, before her face brightened considerably. "Yes, I did."

Adam frowned. "Don't lie to me, Lachrymose."

"I _didn't_ lie to you, Mommy." She sing-songed, her smile never fading.

He took hold of the book and set it beside his own, before he picked it back up. "I only read to good, honest little girls. And you, Lachrymose, have been neither."

"B-But _Mommy_…" she whined, tears collecting in her eyes.

Adam's patience was thinning… well, what was left of his patience, anyhow. "Lachrymose, you're causing a scene. Now, sit down and behave. Look, your favorite show is on and everything."

"_But I don't wanna watch TV! I want you to read to me!"_ She screamed.

She broke out into sobs then, earning more angry stares in their direction. Instead of sitting down in her seat like the mature ten-year-old that he knew she could be, she threw herself down onto the floor and started to pound her fists into the chair. Adam was done. All he had wanted to do was try and wait out another hour, so that he could hear the results of Jay's surgery. Instead, he had to deal with a temperamental ten-year-old.

Bashfully, he apologized to the other families waiting for news on their loved ones, before he took his daughter by the arm and half-lead, half-dragged her out of the waiting room. He was beyond furious. He didn't even know that it was possible to be this _frustrated_. She just wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. And the minute she was outside, it stopped. Like someone had flipped a switch, she was suddenly calm. He didn't understand.

* * *

If there was any way to calm a child down, it would be to take them to Wal-Mart and leave them in the arcade with a bag full of quarters while the parent took care of the grocery shopping. It wasn't a reward. Oh, no. By _no_ means was it a reward. It was more than he couldn't believe the breakdown that she had had at the hospital, and _he_ needed time away so that he could calm down and access the situation like an adult.

"You wouldn't believe it, Jeff. You would've had to have been there. She just had a complete breakdown. Over a _book_, no less. And then, just like someone flipped a switch, it was over. It was awful." Adam said.

_"I would say that you could chalk it up to teenage angst, but she's not even a pre-teen yet."_ Jeff said. _"Could it be that she's just really worried about Jay and doesn't know how to communicate it?"_

"No." Adam shook his head, even though his friend couldn't see. He examined the produce half-heartedly. "We had a very long conversation about that. By the end, she was fine with it. Well-informed and all that."

_"Have her school friends been talking?"_ Jeff asked, sounding just as perplexed as Adam.

"Talking about what?" Adam asked, confused.

_"Maybe it's the whole 'two dads' thing. I know that Lauren had some issues with that when she was younger."_

But Adam wasn't convinced. "No, Lachrymose is usually very open about stuff like that. She had some issues with a girl in the grade above her, and she came to us about it right away."

Jeff was silent for a minute, allowing Adam to switch the phone over to his other ear and examine the prices on two different boxes of pork stuffing. He was never allowed to cook from scratch, not after he had almost burned the house down while he was still pregnant. Jay had just about had a heart attack when he had returned home to find smoke pouring out of the oven and Adam napping on the couch…

Usually, when Jay wasn't home, he would just order in and they would sit around the television and watch _Dr. Who_ re-runs. However, he was so perplexed by his daughter's odd behavior that he didn't know what to do. Maybe he would make her a nice, wholesome meal (wholesome meals could come out of the box, too) and then send her to bed early. She could just be cranky. Yeah, that could be it. Cranky.

_"Well, you know, it could also be the fact that you named her 'Lachrymose'. You do realize that that is French for 'tears', right?"_ Jeff said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, I am aware of that fact." Adam said. "Do you have a point?"

_"Why did you name her Lachrymose, Adam? It couldn't be because you thought the name was pretty."_

Adam completely avoided the topic altogether. "What if she has something I don't know about? I mean, Brock didn't exactly re-trace his family tree before… you know…"

_"That could be a possibility too. But I don't see how you would find that out unless you took her to a doctor and had her checked out."_ Jeff said. _"At which point, they'd ask about her father."_

"They don't need to know that he -,"

Jeff cut him off, "_They have their ways. And they'll want to know why you never pressed charges."_

"He's not on her birth certificate. I made sure of that. It just says 'father unknown'." Adam continued.

He would have continued with that thought, but he froze in his tracks as he rounded the corner. Just a few feet away, standing close by to his personal representative, Paul Heyman, was none other than the current object of their conversation – Brock Lesnar. He was eyeing the impressive selection of protein shakes that they had in the pharmacy cut-out, totally oblivious to Adam's presence.

Adam's heart started to hammer madly in his chest, his fight-or-flight reflex kicking into overdrive. He tried to reason out whether he should try and escape or not, taking in the fact that his daughter was on the opposite side of the store. The fact that Heyman was there made him relax only slightly. Heyman could try to control the beast, but in the end, Brock made his own decisions. And he paid for the consequences too.

Jeff continued to babble away in his ear, unaware of Adam's internal conflict. Slowly, his body started to move again. He forced the cart into the next aisle, burying himself far enough in so that Brock wouldn't be able to see him if he suddenly turned around. He was light-headed and sick to his stomach. The feeling was not unlike how he had felt as he sat on Jay's bathroom floor, his stomach empty and his head swimming.

The fear was still there. It was so powerful, it choked off his supply of air. He could only force a few words out, his voice trembling as he did – "I'll have to call you back." And then he ended the call.


	3. Lachrymose Meets Brock

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lachrymose and Lauren.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Non-Con, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

Brock narrowed his eyes as his representative, Paul Heyman, steered him further into the pharmacy cut-out. The older man was in search of the weight-loss supplements, and he had been so certain that they were _here_ the last time he had checked. "Heyman." Brock muttered softly.

Paul swallowed hard, flashed a semi-casual look at Brock, and then continued to search the aisle. "Yes, I'm sure that you need them. Yes, I'm sure that they're in the pharmacy cut-out. No, you don't need to threaten my life _again_. I promise you, we'll get there. Eventually."

"I don't have _time_ for this." Brock grouched, but nonetheless, he continued to follow his representative around. "You know Creative only screwed me over because I was in a match against everyone's favorite superhero, Cena. If I would have landed that move -,"

Heyman cut him off, realizing just how dangerous this was. "The reason you didn't land that move was because you under-estimated the weight that you gained in your brief hiatus between WWE and UFC. It's just a weight-loss shake, Brock. It's not the end of the world."

Suddenly, Paul found himself pinned to the nearest rack of shelves, choking on his own saliva. "I _haven't_ put on any weight." Brock hissed.

"You know, I really wouldn't recommend murdering your representative. Vince wouldn't take too kindly to a second cover-up, you know..."

That only served to further arouse the ire of the monster. His fingers clenched down around Heyman's meaty neck and he squeezed until the man's eyes looked like they would bulge out of his awkwardly shaped head. Paul knew better than to mention the first 'cover-up'. The incident from 2002 was practically uncharted territory, but it was still a touchy subject. Brock had often admired Adam from afar, but the night he had taken it too far had almost ended his career. In all respects, it should have. But, as per usual, Paul had been there to pick up the pieces.

It hadn't taken much to keep the story out of the papers. Adam never came forward about being raped, liked to make it seem like it was his then-best friend, Jason Reso's, baby. But as she grew older, it became more and more apparent that she wasn't Jay's baby. That was when Vince had started to become suspicious. He had noticed the way that Brock had looked at Adam - Adam's subsequent pregnancy and fear of intimacy from those he had once considered friends (everyone, of course, but Jay) made him a little too nosy for comfort. But Paul had managed to _convince_ him to stay quiet.

"Look, I know that you don't like to talk about it, Brock, but you have to face the fact that a little girl is involved now. A little girl that rightfully deserves to be with her biological father." Paul reasoned.

"We've been over this, Paul." And then had - several times, as a matter of fact. "I'm not exactly 'fatherly' material."

"Oh, but you could be. Nobody is a natural-born father, just like nobody is a natural-born wrestler. It takes practice." Paul offered.

"And how do you suppose that I get that 'practice'?" Brock asked, one eyebrow raised. "Adam's probably brainwashed her against me."

"I don't know." Paul shrugged. He let out a breath of relief when Brock released him, and he sucked in a harsh breath. "Why don't you see for yourself? I'd say that that little girl over there," he motioned to an approaching blonde child, "looks _awfully_ familiar."

Brock turned around, eyes widening when he saw a little girl happily skipping down the middle aisle. Under her right arm, she had safely tucked her favorite teddy bear. With every stride, she kicked up the end of her pretty green skirt. Paul was right - almost unbearably so. She looked _so_ familiar that it hurt Brock's head to look at her. He'd only seen that scar on a child once before, and that had been on Lachrymose. Totally oblivious to the danger that she was about to encounter, she turned into the pharmacy cut-out and ran directly into Brock.

Lachrymose drew back, looking up at the unfamiliar man with the smallest flicker of terror in her eyes. "I'm sorry, mister. I should have been paying more attention to where I was walking." She said fearfully.

Brock smiled at her in a menacing manner. "No worries, sweetie."

"Um..." She trailed off, before offering, "Okay. Bye now."

But Paul, being the quick thinker that he was, reached out and grabbed the little girl by the arm. She let out a surprised yelp, falling flat on her butt. Her skirt fanned out around her and her hair fell down in front of her face. "Oh, but sweetie, we're not done here yet."

Lachrymose looked at the unfamiliar man uncertainly. "We're not?"

Brock, now looking confused and angered, offered the same, "We're not?"

"No." Paul shook his head, helping the little girl to her feet. "I have only one question for you, sweetie. Answer it correctly, and I'll let you leave. Do you understand me?" Paul asked slowly, waiting for her to nod her head. Eventually, she did.

Carefully, she pulled her hand out of Paul's. Backing away slowly, making sure to keep both in her line of sight. She could easily outrun the short, pudgy one, but she wasn't so sure about the other one. "What do you want?"

"Can you point out your Mommy for me?" Paul asked simply.

Lachrymose stared at him uncertainly. Her Mommy had always told her not to talk to strangers, and her Mommy was already really mad at her... However, at the same time, she didn't know what either of them could do to her Mommy. She didn't want him to get hurt. These men... she didn't know them at all, but if she were simply judging off of looks alone, she didn't think that they could be trusted. That, combined with the fact that her arm was still throbbing from where the pudgy man had grabbed her only served to terrify her more. She looked up at the bigger man, before shrinking into herself.

Looking around the corner, she was immediately able to identify Adam. She pointed to him. "There he is."

"Good answer, kiddo." Paul said, watching as she ran away. "Good answer."


	4. Danger

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lachrymose and Lauren.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Non-Con, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

Adam was startled out of his painful reverie by the force of a tiny body colliding with his leg. His entire body jolted forward and he let out a sound strangely akin to a moan. "What the -,"

"Mommy!" And it was Lachrymose. His pretty baby, crying big, fat tears into the material of his pants. "Mommy, it was awful! There were these two men, and I ran into one of them, and I said sorry and... and..." the rest of her words dissolved into a manic fit of sobs.

Frantically, Adam yanked her off of his leg. "What do you mean? Who were these men? Did they do anything to you?" The questions came rapid-fire, the next leaving his mouth almost before he finished asking the first. When she didn't answer, "Lachrymose!"

"I... I'm sorry, Mommy!" She was practically _screaming_ now, her normally serene eyes wide and fearful. "I'm sorry, Mommy. So, so sorry."

Adam groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, desperate to remain calm. "You don't have anything to be sorry about, baby. Calm down, okay?"

"I'm sorry, Mommy. Sorry... sorry... sorry." She continued to blubber at him, his words seemingly not breaking into her head.

Adam squeezed his eyes closed, curses falling from his lips before he could really stop them. What the hell was he supposed to do? He knew that Brock was aware that Adam had had a baby around nine months after the rape, but he had hoped - hell, he had _prayed_ - that acting like she was Jay's had been a convincing cover. Unfortunately, it looked like Brock was a bit smarter than he had given him credit for. And if he found out the truth about Lachrymose, what would be next? Would he try for custody over her? Over Adam's dead body.

Not really knowing what he was doing, he reached down and clutched the little girl's hand tightly in his own. He only bothered to look back once, noticing with a stinging sense of fear that Paul and Brock had managed to disappear. He shook his head, not allowing those fears to take root. Abandoning his cart in the middle of the aisle, he started to walk - as calmly as he could - toward the nearest exit. Lachrymose was still sobbing her little heart out, and only then did Adam realize that she had lost her teddy bear. Oh well, there wasn't time to get it now.

He was thankful that they managed to make it to the exit without attracting too many eyes - and even more thankful that they hadn't had any unwanted run-ins with Brock or Paul. The greeter asked them if they were satisfied with their visit, but Adam just ignored him. He couldn't take the risk of stopping now. Once they managed to get through the double doors, Adam started to move faster, fumbling in his pocket for his car keys and never once releasing his daughter's hand. Within seconds, they were in the car and on their way back home.

After clearing the parking lot, Adam looked at his daughter in the rear-view mirror. She was still a little teary-eyed, but significantly calmer. "Is there anything you can tell me about those men? Anything at all?"

She sniffled. "The one man was big and muscle-y, kinda like Uncle Hunter. But his hair was shorter. He was mean and scary, Mommy!"

Adam sighed, listening to her break down into tears again. "Okay. Okay, that's good, baby. Very good. What about the other man?"

It took her a minute to regain control of herself. "The other man... he was fat. Gray hair, maybe." She wiped at her eyes with balled-up fists. "He kinda looked like a walrus." She sniffled, letting her hands fall into her lap.

Adam's heart sank, knowing exactly who these two men were and knowing that they knew who Lachrymose was as well. "That's very good, sweetie. You're doing a great job." But his voice was tight and he knew she didn't believe him. "Now, tell me one more thing."

"Okay." She said, her eyes falling to her lap. Blonde hair fell down and framed her little face.

Adam sucked in a deep breath, accelerating onto the highway. The wind whipped into the open window and tossed his hair around. "What did they want?"

The answer was most unexpected. "They wanted _you_, Mommy."

* * *

Brock scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. With the way that Paul was driving, they'd make it back to the hotel in a matter of minutes. "I'm pretty sure that you scared that little girl to death."

"_I'm_ the one that scared her to death?" Paul scoffed, sounding on the verge of manic laughter. He slowed down, eased into a turn, and then shot back up to a smooth sixty mph. "I asked her a simple question. _You're_ the one that smiled at her like the boogeyman."

"What you're thinking about doing... it's not right." Brock said. His tone was curt, tight, but there was something else hidden there as well.

Paul's eyes widened and this time, he really _did_ laugh. "Since when have you been concerned with right and wrong?" And then, "If you were really concerned with the ethical side of this, you never would have taken advantage of Adam in the first place."

Brock's face turned hard, "I thought I told you never to mention that." He said, voice dripping with venom.

"Of course, because if I don't say it, we can act like it never happened." Paul rolled his eyes. "What a world you think we live in."

Brock turned suddenly, fingers aching to snap out and break the walrus' neck like a twig. And he would have, but it meant that he could be killed as well, so he held back. "Shut your fucking trap before I make it so you _can't_ open it again."

Paul fell silent immediately, taking the hint. Brock scowled, turning around and staring out the window, watching as the highway flew by in a blur of color. He might not have much in the way of ethics, but he knew when to draw the line. He really didn't have any interest in this child. She was Adam's mess and, while he didn't look like he would be _cleaning_ that mess anytime soon, he undoubtedly loved her. He loved her enough to keep her safe from Brock, that much was certain. And if Paul went through with his plan, that 'mess'... well, it would be in Brock's hands.

_He'd only seen that scar on a child once before._ Yes, that was true. That kind of scar... it did substantial damage to the face, with a massive amount of scar tissue, and immeasurable pain involved. He'd watched her get it. It had been right before he had left the WWE the first time. She hadn't even been two, but she was a never-ending bundle of energy. She'd fallen in an arena and gone head-first down six bleachers, effectively splitting her head open from the tip of her widow's peak, between her eyes, and to the tip of her nose. She was lucky that she had even survived that much blood loss.

Paul pulled into the hotel parking lot and cut the engine. "You had two choices here, Brock. I can't make the choice for you."

Brock rolled his eyes and continued to stare out the window. "And..."

"The first, you just let this go. I set up the entire situation perfectly for you, even confirmed the fact that she is Adam's brat. I don't know what else you want. A paternity test? That could be arranged, if you want. But if you really don't care, just let it go."

Brock closed his eyes, thought it over for a second, and then said, "And choice two?"

"We could go forward with my plan. At the end of all of it, you'll have sole custody over Lachrymose and Adam won't even have _visitation_. And, in the end, isn't that what you've always wanted? A child of your own, that will only love you?"

Brock turned to him then, suddenly feeling incredibly sick. And then, "I'll think about it."

Before Paul could say another word, Brock was out of the car and slamming the door closed. He didn't even realize that it had started to rain, nor did he think about it too much. Quickly, he made his way into the hotel and over to the elevator, pressing the button for the floor that he desired. Once the doors closed, he allowed his eyes to fall closed as well. What the hell was he doing? Did he really think that it would be so cut-and-dry to take Lachrymose away from Adam? Maybe Vince was right when he said that Brock had finally lost it... but maybe there was a way to get it all back.

* * *

**The Next Day**

**Monday Night RAW**

Adam found himself sitting in an all-too-familiar office, waiting for the arrival of a man with a larger-than-life ego. The room was decorated in posters from the various pay-per-view events, most notably advertising the match between Brock and John Cena. That was, after all, why he had come back. He wanted to shut-up the 'face' of the company once and for all. Adam bit down on his bottom lip, hoping beyond belief that that was the real reason he had come back. He hoped, he _prayed_ that it had nothing to do with his little angel.

It had taken all that he had just to get her to stop crying, and once she calmed down, she went out like a light. He had decided against bringing her tonight, knowing that Brock would be there with his list of 'demands' and knowing that that wouldn't be a safe environment for her to be in. In fact, that was why he had requested this meeting with Mr. McMahon. It was thanks to Mr. McMahon that they were safe from the beast to begin with, and while he felt bad for coming here now, he knew that he would be able to dish out one more favor.

Vince entered the office, smiling a little at the sight of Adam. "So, Adam, is there a reason you decided to grace me with your presence tonight?"

Without thinking, he simply blurted out, "I think that Lachrymose is in danger."


	5. Tyson

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lachrymose and Lauren.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Non-Con, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

Vince's face suddenly became incredibly serious. He broke eye-contact with Adam, before claiming the chair behind his desk. He folded his hands thoughtfully. Finally, "In danger? What makes you think this?"

Adam looked down at his hands. "What makes me think that?" A pause. "I _saw_ him, Vince. I was shopping in Wal-Mart and I left my baby in the little arcade cut-out, and the next thing I know, she's charging me and screaming about a walrus-man and his buddy that looked as big as Hunter."

Vince couldn't help but chuckle. "I always knew that that kid had quite the eye." But then, he became serious again. "WWE has re-signed Brock Lesnar to a contract - he'll be fighting against John Cena at Extreme Rules '12."

"And nobody thought to mention this to me?" Adam freaked - Vince had _promised_ to tell him before he re-signed Brock, if that time ever came.

"No." Vince said calmly. "You aren't a member of the active roster, so it was highly unlikely that the two of you would cross in an arena -,"

Adam cut him off. "Well, we didn't 'cross' in an arena, did we? We crossed and he got his hands on my daughter. And that is _not_ okay."

Vince nodded. "No, of course, I understand that nothing about this is 'okay'." He absently drummed his fingers on his desk. "That's not what I was attempting to say at all. It's not 'okay' in the least. But I believe that it can be managed."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"I'm very sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from coming to the arenas - if only for a short while." A pause, then, "And I want you to take Lachrymose to the local police department. Have her tell an officer what happened, and see if you can get a restraining order."

"I'm not going to put my daughter through that kind of torture -,"

This time, it was Vince's turn to cut Adam off. "I'm not _asking_ you, Adam. I'm _telling_ you."

* * *

Brock was surprised when Adam wasn't backstage at the show that night. He was _always_ there, whether Jay was there or not. But tonight, there was no sign of him. At first, he had simply thought that the pretty blond was giving him a wide berth - he had no doubt that Lachrymose had told him about their little encounter at Wal-Mart, and he knew that Adam would freak out about it. And rightfully so. Brock _still_ didn't know what had come over Paul when he decided to grab that poor girl's arm and pull her back.

It was only when he returned to the hotel, finding his younger lover already asleep in their bed, that he realized that maybe Adam _was_ giving him a wide berth - but in an entirely different fashion. Maybe he just wouldn't come to the shows anymore, just to prevent an unwanted encounter with Brock. That thought made something twist inside of him. He could even admit that it hurt... but only a little bit. He came into the bedroom and tossed his stuff down, before plopping down at the foot of the bed and shaking his boyfriend's leg.

Tyson lifted his head slowly, blearily blinking his eyes. "What the... oh, Brock, it's you."

"Yeah, it's me. Who the hell did you think it was? The Easter Bunny?" To anyone else, that would've been a joke. But Brock rarely joked.

"No. Sorry, it was a stupid question." Tyson rubbed at his eyes, before he sat up in bed. He looked at the clock, noticing that it was a little after eleven. "You're home late. What happened?"

"I had a little run-in with Josh Mathews backstage. Paul wanted me to come see him and make sure that his injuries weren't too severe." Brock said. "It's bad for my relationship with Vince - if I overstep my bounds, my job is out the window."

"Is this about the Adam situation?" Tyson asked. He knew a little about it, but only what Brock had told him.

"Damn it!" Brock slammed his fist down onto the bed. "Why does everyone feel the need to bring that up?"

_You were kinda the one that brought it up in the first place_, Tyson thought. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Brock sighed. He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the ceiling. "Damn it, Tyson, you're not the thing that's upsetting me. This whole fucking _situation_ is upsetting me. And Paul... that damn _weasel_..."

"What did Paul do?" Tyson asked, wide-eyed.

Brock realized what he had just said, paused, and decided on, "Nothing. Just... nothing."

He undressed himself, before climbing into bed behind the smaller man. The lithe brunette twisted around, hooking his leg around Brock's hip and burying his face in the larger man's chest. It was true, he knew what happened to Adam. He knew that Brock had raped him. But that was where the story ended. And, at first, that had sickened him. Hell, it still sickened him. But Brock had never treated him with anything less that love, respect, and decency. He'd never raised a hand to him, and not because he knew what would happen to him if he did - he didn't _want_ to.

"I love you, Brock." Tyson whispered, feeling Brock press his lips to his forehead. It was an oddly romantic gesture for such a closed-off man.

"Go to sleep, kid." And Tyson felt his heart clench, knowing that Brock cared for him, maybe even lusted after him, but he didn't _love_ him. He might _treat_ him with love, but that was where it ended. And that would have to be enough...


	6. The Aftermath of the Police Station

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lachrymose and Lauren.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Non-Con, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

"I'm really sorry about this, officer." Adam practically had to scream to be heard above his ten-year-old's blubbering. She was clawing onto his side and burying her face in his shirt like she was a toddler. "She's normally much better behaved. It must be all of the trauma."

But the officer brushed off the child's screams with a warm smile. "No need to apologize, Mr. Copeland." Then, her smile fell. "Unfortunately, we have a lot of kids in here. Compared to most kids in her age group, Lachrymose here was actually rather well-behaved."

A look of relief washed over his face, and all of the tension seemed to melt from his body. "Thank you. I really needed to hear that."

"No problem." That radiant smile returned. "We have all of the information we need here for now, so you're free to take her home and relax."

"Relax. Yeah." Lachrymose's wails hit his ears once again. He flinched - taking a deep breath, he silently counted backwards from ten. "I don't think I've had one minute of relaxation for ten years, but I'll work on that."

The officer only chuckled. "Children... they certainly are the light of your life." She must've held many fond memories of her own children.

Suddenly, a very _vivid_ memory of Brock pinning him to the bed and duct-tapping his wrists to the headboard came to the forefront of his mind. He forced a weak, watery smile. "Yes, they certainly are something, aren't they?"

"Take my advice, Mr. Copeland. Savor every moment of time you have with your little princess. You don't know when they'll end."

Adam felt an uncomfortable gnawing grow in his stomach. "What do you mean?"

She motioned to Lachrymose, who was clutching onto Adam for dear-life. "You're her hero. You're her knight in shining armor that fights off the monsters under the bed and makes the bad dreams go away. But she won't need a hero forever... so be the hero she needs today."

The line sounded terribly rehearsed, but he smiled anyway. "Thank you."

"No problem. All in a day's work." She led them to the front door. "We'll call you if anything comes up, but I sincerely doubt that that will be the case."

Adam smiled. "Good."

* * *

Lachrymose's tiny body was fanned out over the queen-sized bed, her blonde head resting on Adam's chest. She had fallen asleep on the drive back from the police station and Adam had had to carry her into the hotel room. The queen had been meant for Adam to share with Jay - however, considering the fact that Jay would be out for several months, recovering from shoulder surgery, Adam didn't see the harm in her sleeping with him for a little while. Besides, he had always liked to watch her sleep. There was something oddly comforting about the way she would curl her tiny body into his, trying to make herself as small as possible...

The room itself was uncomfortably silent. Normally, this would be the time for Jay and Adam to talk about the day's events. They would talk about anything and everything, from Lachrymose's school work to Jay's newest feud in the WWE. But now, Jay wasn't there, and Adam had to make do on his own. At first, he had tried to watch TV. However, even with the volume almost muted, the child was still squirming about, her eyelids fluttering as consciousness slowly returned to her. So he had ditched the TV and had started to read a book... only to realize that he had been reading the same paragraph for twenty-odd minutes, and was still on page one.

He was incredibly thankful to hear his phone ringing, the familiar tune of Jay's entrance music piercing through the painful silence. Immediately, he answered it. "Hello?"

_"Adam?"_ Jay's voice was low, a tad slurred from the pain medication they had him on, but undeniably the voice of the man he loved. _"Oh, thank God you finally picked up. I called like... twenty times, earlier, but you never answered. It's not good to worry a man that's already in the hospital, princess."_

Adam bristled at the nickname, but didn't comment on it. Jay wasn't in any condition to banter. "I'm sorry. I was at the police station with Lacey earlier, and they were very strict about turning your phone off in the interrogation room. If I didn't turn it off, it would have been confiscated."

_"Oh, I understand now... Wait a minute, why were you down at the police station with Lacey? Did something happen?"_ A tense silence followed. _"Adam..."_

"Yes, something happened. But I'd rather not discuss it right now, when it took me a half-hour of driving around to get her to stop crying and go to sleep."

Adam didn't mean to sound bitter, he really didn't. But that nervous, sickly feeling that had stayed with him for months after the rape was returning, and it was setting him on edge. Finally, Jay asked, _"Is it about Brock?"_

Unbidden, tears came to his eyes and blurred his vision. "Who else would it be about?"

_"You should talk to Vince. He'll know how to handle the situation."_

"Do you remember when I said that I didn't want to talk about this?" Adam sighed. "And I did talk to Vince. You're a little behind the eight-ball, Jay-Jay." Jay made a sarcastic remark about forgiving him for having surgery. "He was the one who told me to go to the police, and banned me from the arenas until all of this was settled."

_"That hardly seems fair."_ Jay said, but then, honoring his boyfriend's request, changed the topic. _"The orthopedic surgeon who did my operation said that I'm recovering much better than expected, and I should be able to come home next week."_

For the first time that night, Adam felt a _real_ smile creep across his face. "That's wonderful, Jay-Jay! It's the perfect excuse to get far, far away from that creep. Lacey and I can head home tomorrow, and we'll start to fix the house up for you. Oh, it'll be -," he cut off to an annoying beeping in his ear. "I have to go, I have an incoming call."

_"Okay."_ Jay sounded reluctant to let him leave, but knew that he would talk to him again soon. _"Love you, princess."_

Adam rolled his eyes, "Love you too, Jay-Jay."

Immediately afterward, he ended the call. Sliding his finger across the phone's screen, he checked the Caller ID for the incoming call... the phone fell out of his hand, bouncing loudly on the mattress, before falling off of the bed entirely. Adam didn't care. No, more like he _couldn't_ care. The Caller ID was an unidentified number, but it was a number he recognized from Jay's phone. Brock Lesnar. How the _hell_ had he gotten Adam's number? And, a better question, why did he think that Adam would answer? The phone chimed one last time, before cutting itself off. Adam waited a few minutes for the customary _beep_ that signified a new voice mail, but nothing came.

And then, like horrific clockwork, the phone started to ring again. It slid across the floor, vibrating loudly against the wooden planks. Adam looked down, terrified to see that it was, once again, that unidentified number. Why did he keep calling? And then, with even more terror striking his heart, Adam turned to the tiny form tucked into bed beside him. Did he think that Lachrymose was going to answer? Did he think that he could lure her away from him? A sudden urge to strike the phone with a baseball bat struck him, but he immediately stifled it down... mostly because he didn't have a baseball bat handy.

It cut off again. Once more, Adam waited around for the _beep_ that would tell him that Brock had left a message, but nothing came. Another call. Now, Adam looked at his daughter for a different reason. Lachrymose was a notoriously light sleeper, and he knew for a fact that she would soon wake up and ask him who was constantly calling. The call cut off. It rang. It cut off. This continued six more times. Adam, now terribly frightened, grabbed the hotel phone and called Jay's cell phone again. There was no answer - he was probably asleep. So, doing the next best thing, he called his best friend, Jeff.

Right after Jeff answered, before he could even say anything, Adam forced out, "Jeff! Thank God you answered! I was so scared that you'd be asleep."

_"Actually..."_ Jeff trailed off lazily, his southern drawl more pronounced in his half-awake state. "_I was asleep, thank you. But now that I'm awake, and it sounds like you have a real emergency on your hands, tell me what the problem is."_

Adam swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and said, "Brock called."

A moment of silence, then, _"What was that? I couldn't have heard you correctly."_

"I'm pretty sure that you heard me correctly, Jeffy. I was on the phone with Jay, and I got an incoming call, so I ended the call with him and went to answer the other call... only it was an unidentified number. It was _Brock's_ number." Adam clarified, his voice trembling with fear.

_"I guess I did hear you correctly."_ A sigh. Suddenly, he seemed very-much awake. _"Adam, this is very serious."_ Adam was about to protest 'don't you think that I know that', but Jeff beat him to it. "_How did you even know that it was Brock's number? It doesn't seem likely that you'd memorize it."_

Absently, he tried to curl in on himself, only to remember that Lachrymose was laying on his stomach and he could barely move. "I saw it on Jay's phone once... it was back when Vince insisted that everyone had everyone else's number, in case of an accident or something. He didn't have my number, though, so I don't know -,"

Jeff cut him off, "_It doesn't matter how he got it, Adam, only that he has it now. Tomorrow morning, I want you to call the phone company and have his number blocked."_

"They'll want to know why I want that number blocked, won't they?" Adam asked. "I can't tell them that he r-ra-," a deep breath, "you know."

Jeff sighed. _"It doesn't really matter what you tell them. Do whatever it takes to sell it, though. Get his number blocked tomorrow morning."_ He continued to insist on this. _"And if you still feel afraid, our door is always open."_

"Thank you." Adam let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "You're a great friend, Jeff."

_"Hey, I know that you would do the same for me. I'll talk to you later, okay? I don't want Phil to wake up and wonder where I went."_

Adam understood that feeling all-too-well. "Okay. Bye."

He felt decidedly better after that conversation with Jeff, but something about this was still making him incredibly uncomfortable. How did Brock end up with his number? Why did he think he would answer? He knew that the man was mentally unstable - why else would he have attacked Adam? - but that was just plain _stupid_. It kind of felt more like a decoy move, something out of Paul Heyman's playbook, than something that Brock would think up himself. He looked down at his phone, finally reaching down and picking it up, only to turn it off and place it on the bedside table. Then he rolled over and tried to go to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Adam awoke before Lachrymose and, using the hotel phone, called down to the front desk for room service. Looking at the menu that had been provided, he ordered blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and a side of hash browns for Lachrymose and a vegetable omelet for himself. After receiving confirmation that their order would arrive in about a half-hour, he thanked the woman and hung up. Thankful that Lachrymose was still knocked out cold, he knew that this would be his best opportunity to call the phone company and ask to have Brock's number blocked.

As it turned out, the process was much easier than Adam had thought it would be. The woman on the other end of the line was extremely chipper - which was actually rather annoying at this time of morning - and eager to help him out. Confessing that she had issues with 'overly-attached boyfriends' before, she was more than willing to block Brock's number. He also had Paul Heyman's number blocked, but that was more of an afterthought (and, as he would later realize, an added precaution). She thanked him for using their phone company, and then ended the call.

Lachrymose awoke around the same time that the room service arrived, and came out of the bedroom dressed in the same outfit she had worn the day before. "What's for breakfast, Mommy?" She asked, rubbing at her eyes.

"Blueberry pancakes and hash browns." He said, smiling. Lifting the lid off of her dish, he handed the plate over to his little girl.

"Oh, my favorite. Thank you!" Even though she was smiling, the red-rims around her eyes were painfully apparent.

"You're welcome, sweetie." Adam's smile started to feel a little forced, so he let it fall. Turning back to the cart, he noticed something strange, which certainly didn't come with the average order... a bouquet of orange roses. "What's this?"

One quick look at the bow tied neatly around the vase told him everything he needed to know. A tag had been attached to the end of the ribbon, reading: To ~ Adam, From ~ Brock.


	7. In the Elevator

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lachrymose and Lauren.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Non-Con, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

A heavy hand fell down on the door to Paul Heyman's hotel room. It was relatively early, but if the portly manager wasn't already awake, he certainly was now... "Paul, open the goddamn door before I fucking break it down!"

The sound of shuffling footfalls could be heard on the other side of the door. From the sounds of it, his manager was dragging out their inevitable meeting as long as possible. Brock knocked again, harder this time, and Paul groaned, "I'm coming, I'm coming."

"Yeah, well you're not coming fast enough." Brock hissed, his tone lethal. Just as he was about to knock again, the door opened and his fist nearly met Heyman's face.

"Ah, Brock. It's wonderful to see you at... seven o' clock in the morning. Early riser, huh? I hope that you'll excuse my state of dress. I was still sleeping when you knocked, see, and -,"

"Do I look like I give a fuck about what you were doing when I knocked?" If Paul hadn't known better, he would've waited for the fire to shoot out of Brock's ears. "Tell me where my phone is. _Now_."

Paul had the good sense to look mildly affronted at Brock's suggestion. "And why would _I_ know about the whereabouts of your phone? Are you attempting to imply that I stole it, Mr. Lesnar? Because, if you are, I must say -,"

Brock shoved past him and entered into the hotel room uninvited, clearly unimpressed with Heyman's stuttering. "Just tell me where it is."

Sweat started to form on the man's brow. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Brock, but... please, put that down. That cost _money_!"

"Oh, this?" With a not-so-innocent expression on his face, he let it fall to the floor and shatter. "Oops. Well, think of it this way. It couldn't have been _that_ valuable, considering it broke so easily." Brock shrugged. "Oh, and what's this?"

The monster held up one of the trinkets that Heyman's daughter had made for him in school. "Brock, don't -," but it was too late.

It fell to the floor and shattered into thousands of pieces. Heyman was certain that he'd never be able to find them all, let alone put them back together properly. Heyman looked up, watching as Brock circled around the room, looking for more valuables to destroy. Knowing that Paul wouldn't sue and risk losing his best client (CM Punk aside, of course), and that he wouldn't make it to the phone to call security before Brock could take him out, Brock practically had free reign over the entire hotel room. It was absolutely terrifying.

As he watched him move with the methodical grace of an expert chess player, he realized what it was that Brock was doing. He was sizing him up, weakening his resolve. Brock knew that if Paul didn't have his phone, he most likely knew - and had connections to - whoever had done it. Each priceless, irreplaceable trinket he examined was a threat. Without words, he was asking Heyman just how much that information meant to him. He was forced to watch as Brock destroyed the small things that he held dear, until finally -

"Stop!" Brock was holding a glass locket, which belonged to Heyman's daughter. She let him take it with him when he traveled. "You want to know about your phone, huh? Well, do you?"

Brock set the locket down, a dark grimace on his face. "It took you that long to figure it out, did it?"

"I took your phone." And at that moment, he produced Brock's phone from the pocket of his bathrobe. "Take it and leave, alright? No harms been done here."

It was obvious that Brock was not convinced. He snatched the phone out of Heyman's hand and unlocked it, searching around for anything that seemed abnormal. And then, "Why has an unlisted number been called eight times, Paul?"

A dark, brooding look came over the manager's face. "Listen, Brock - we agreed long ago that I would help you to advance your career in whatever way I could. When you raped Adam," this earned a growl from the monster, who was rapidly gaining ground, "you should have lost your job. Because of me, you didn't."

"You called _Adam?" _Brock growled. Suddenly, they were so close that they were breathing the same air.

Heyman's look of fear flickered momentarily to haughtiness. "Who else?"

Brock snapped. He closed the distance between them with one step, before grabbing hold of Paul's thick neck and slamming him into the nearest solid surface. It just so happened to be the poor, abused door. He was breathing heavily, almost on the brink of hyperventilation, and his eyes were steely and lethal. At that moment, he could've been capable of anything. This was the same wild look that he had had when he had broken Triple H's arm. Paul could feel his own arms tremble and ache in anticipation of what was to come, but Brock barely moved. He only squeezed Paul's neck harder, cutting off the flow of air to the brain.

"I thought I told you to leave Adam and that kid alone? Didn't I fucking tell you that? Huh?" As if to emphasize his point, he slammed Paul into the door once more. By now, his manager was seeing stars. "You didn't have my best interest in mind, you worthless piece of shit. You want him to get a restraining order!"

"I... I never... said that." Paul choked out, hands rising to pull at Brock's.

"You didn't have to say it." Brock hissed. Carefully, he tucked the phone into his pocket. "You stay out of this mess with Adam, do you understand me? If you don't, I'll be talking to Vince about getting a new manager."

But Paul, always one step ahead, merrily pointed to the bruises on his neck. "Oh, I don't think he'll be very understanding, Brock. You see, Adam is like a son to him, and you hurt him... and you're hurting him now. All I have to do is show him what you did to my neck, and, well..."

Brock tilted his head to the side, his eyes utterly empty, and muttered emotionlessly, "It would be wise not to threaten me."

He took his leave then, knowing - unfortunately - that Paul was right. If he caused a scene now and left too much evidence behind, he would have absolutely nothing to fall back on. So he left Paul to clean up his broken trinkets in peace. He had what he had come for, after all. But it still didn't make sense. Why would he call Adam? And how did he even know Adam's number? It certainly wasn't in Brock's phone. In order to avoid getting a restraining order taken out against him, he had agreed to cut all ties. That included phone numbers. So where he had gotten Adam's number, Brock didn't know.

As he waited for the elevator that would take him back to his floor, he took his phone back out and dialed the unlisted number. He didn't know what had compelled him to do it, or why he thought Adam would answer, but a nagging feeling in his gut told him that _this was what needed to be done_. However, before the call could patch through, he heard and unfamiliar beeping sound. A nasally female voice proclaimed that this number had been blocked by the owner of the phone he was attempting to reach. He could try a different number, or attempt to call again later. Hanging up, he felt a surge of anger rush through him... and he hadn't the slightest idea why.

* * *

Adam was in an absolute frenzy. He'd destroyed the flowers and had tossed them into the nearest trashcan, not wanting to see them any longer. Without even bothering to touch his meal, he started to pack their suitcases. This was serious, this time. Lachrymose running into Brock and Paul at the supermarket... the visit to the police station... the calls last night from Brock... and now the flowers. It had all come upon him so suddenly. But that didn't mean that he could waste any time thinking about what all of it meant, or if it was even Brock behind all of this.

Once he was done packing everything, Lachrymose had finished with her meal. He stuffed her tiny, child-sized suitcase into her arms, setting her a little off-balance. She looked up at him with confusion, her wide blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Another one of her mood-swings. A mood-swing that they didn't have time for. He watched as she dropped the suitcase, picked it up with one tiny hand, and hurriedly raced to catch up to him. She took hold of his free hand, and together, they caught the first elevator that came by. Adam jabbed the button for the first floor, and it raced downward.

But then, it stopped. The light above the door informed them that this was the fourth floor. Adam frowned, dragging Lachrymose a little bit closer to him. The door opened with a soft _whoosh_, and on the other side of the door stood Brock Lesnar. His eyes widened, "I'll just... take the next elevator."

Lachrymose squealed, burying her face in Adam's leg and holding on for dear life. "Mommy..."

Adam tried to shrink into the corner of the elevator, but, at the same time, maintain a strong façade. "It's okay, baby. It's okay. He's going to take the next elevator." He stroked her soft blonde curls gently. "He won't hurt you..."

Something in Brock's eyes changed then, and he started to approach the still-open doors. "On second thought..." Fearfully, Adam reached out to hit the button to close the doors, but it wasn't fast enough. All of a sudden, Brock was inside, standing in front of Lachrymose. "Don't mind if I do."

_"Mommy_..."Lachrymose was absolutely beside herself, sobbing loudly into Adam's hip.

"What do you want, Brock?" He tried and failed to keep his voice from trembling.

Brock shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. He watched with narrow eyes as Adam subtly tried to move Lachrymose behind him. "What do I want? What do _I_ want?" He sounded surprised, but it was obviously fake. "I _want_ to know why you decided to block my number."

"How did you know about that?" As if to answer him, Brock took out his phone and dialed Adam's number. That same nasally voice came onto the speaker, stating the same monotonous message. "Brock, I... I didn't mean anything by it, really. I was just scared... you called so many times..."

Brock was scowling now. "You're _afraid_ of me, Adam?"

There was a moment's pause, and then Brock closed the distance between them, getting in his face like he had gotten into Paul's just a few minutes earlier. A tense silence stretched between them, with only the dull sound of the elevator rushing to its destination to fill it. And then, drawing his hand back, he landed a swift, open-handed slap onto Adam's face. The pretty blond flinched, tears bristling in his green eyes. But still, he forced Lachrymose to stay behind him. She didn't see any of this, but she continued to sob anyhow. And then, as if to add insult to injury, Brock patted the swollen, blotchy cheek condescendingly.

The doors to the elevator slid open onto Brock's floor. Brock smiled. "This isn't over, Adam. Not by a long shot."

He stepped out and the doors slid closed. Adam sighed, releasing his hold on Lachrymose. "No, I would guess not."


	8. Tracking Adam

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lachrymose and Lauren.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Non-Con, Mpreg, Violence, Domestic Violence, etc.

* * *

Brock felt a rush of calm wash over him as he stepped into his hotel room. Now that he had put distance between himself and the cause of his frustration, it was hard for him to remember why he had been so upset in the first place. The incident in the elevator was still incredibly fresh in his memory. He vividly recalled the sound of Adam's brat sobbing hysterically into Adam's hip, the way Adam had tried his very best to comfort her, the fear in his own eyes as he stared into the inhumane face of the beast incarnate... but most of all, he remembered the pain in his hand as he slapped Adam's cheek.

It was not unlike the pain that had coursed through his shoulders and upper back when he had broken Triple H's arm. The pain was almost always accompanied by a flaring pain in the mind - remorse maybe? - that burned at his temples like white-hot coals. What he had done wasn't right. He knew that. Brock had absolutely no interest in Adam or his daughter, whether it _was_ Brock's daughter or Jay's. But something about Adam calling the phone company and having his number blocked had set him off, and now, _everything_ had changed. It was time to take a new course of action.

"Tyson? Tyson, where are you?" Brock called out into the otherwise silent hotel room, feeling uncomfortably pressed for time. With less than a week until SummerSlam, his contract with the WWE was about to come to an abrupt end. "Tyson?"

A few seconds later, the tiny high-flier emerged from the bedroom, lazily rubbing his eyes. "I _was_ in bed, y'know, _sleeping_." He rolled his eyes, stretching out like a cat that had just woken from a nap. "What's the matter? You look like someone just tried to kill you."

"There's no time to explain now. Time is of the essence. Go back, get dressed, and grab your suitcase. We're gonna hit the road." Brock said hurriedly.

Tyson frowned. "Since when? We don't have to be at the airport for another hour and a half."

"I never said that we were taking a plane." Tyson's look of confusion didn't waver. "I'm driving. And we're leaving in ten, whether you're ready or not."

The high-flier, now wide-awake, rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "God, what's climbed up _your_ butt and died? It's only nine-thirty and you're ready to kill the entire freaking world. So much for thinking it was going to be a nice day." Nonetheless, he did what he was told.

"Tyson..." the first time was almost, _almost_ pleading. "Tyson!" Now, it was a growl, low and threatening... and _still_ steadfastly ignored.

Brock would've continued to call after him, but he couldn't waste any time. He'd already wasted several precious moments haphazardly throwing his things into his own suitcases - which sat by the door - and trying to wake up Tyson. But now, knowing that Tyson would take several minutes to get ready, he took to enacting his plan. For work-related reasons, Vince McMahon had insisted that every member of the WWE Superstar and Diva roster get a tracking chip for their phone, in case something happened. This made Brock's quest a whole hell of a lot easier.

Taking out one of the hotel's complimentary note pads, he took out his phone and pulled up the unlisted number that Heyman had identified as Adam's. He scribbled the numbers down, writing some basic information (Adam's type of phone, the year he bought it, etc.) down as well. It was amazing how much he remembered about the man, considering how long it had been since he had last seen him. Then, tucking his phone back into his pocket, he took out Tyson's phone, entered the tracking mechanism, and entered all of the information. A basic roadmap appeared, and in the middle was a dark green dot.

He looked at the street name, town name, and city name - once he had all of the information down on the notepad, he closed down the tracking mechanism and put Tyson's phone back where he had found it. It wouldn't do to have him wonder what Brock had been doing with his phone, after all. And then he tore off the sheet of paper, folded it four times, and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. Adam wasn't going to get away. Not this time. Absently, he patted his shirt pocket. The information would be safe in there until it came time to update it.

Tyson chose that particular moment to emerge from the bedroom, dressed and with his suitcase in hand. He looked particularly disinterested in the entire event. "Well, are you ready to go?"

"Yeah." Brock took out the keys to their rental and tossed them to Tyson, who caught them easily. "Go grab the car and pull it around front. I still have one more thing that I need to do, and then I'll meet you down there."

Tyson frowned. "Okay, Mr. This-Is-Urgent-And-We-Need-To-Leave-Now." He rolled his eyes, shaking his head slowly.

"Don't be a smartass, Tyson. You'll pay for it later."

The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And how exactly will I be 'paying' for it later?"

"Just go out to the car, would you? We don't have time to mess around like this!"

"You know, you can be a real asshole sometimes." Tyson said matter-of-factly. "I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but I really don't like it. You're turning into a real jerk and I'm sick of it. So cut it out, would you?" And then he turned and started down to the parking lot.

Brock turned and watched him leave, considering his words for only a minute. They didn't really mean anything to him, of course. Not in his current state-of-mind, that is. If he had been thinking rationally, he would've realized that he was hurting the only good thing that had come into his life in several years. But right now, rational thinking was beyond him. His blood was boiling and he knew of only one release. Adam. Adam _was_ his release. Adam was the only thing that he had ever wanted, the only thing that was worth fighting for - even if he fought using dirty, underhanded tactics.

He took out his phone and pressed the button for speed-dial one. It was Paul Heyman's number - and the only number that he needed to have on speed-dial... or on his phone at all, really. Paul answered on the first ring. _"Yes?"_

"Don't push me, Paul. I'm really not in the mood." Brock said through clenched-teeth. "You were right about Adam... the kid... _everything_."

He could hear Paul laughing on the other end of the line. Leave it to Paul Heyman to find a situation like this amusing. _"Of course I'm right, Brock. When am I not? When have I ever steered you wrong? Never. I'm in your corner for the long-haul."_

There was a moment's pause, then, "I met him in the elevator coming back down from your room and I slapped him in front of the kid."

_"Tsk, tsk Brock. You can't go and let your emotions get the best of you. That's what happened in 2002, and look where that got you."_

"Nowhere." Brock said stiffly.

_"Exactly."_ Paul hummed his agreement. _"And with a big, fat paycheck from SummerSlam in the works, you can't risk it."_

Brock let out a low growl, feeling his fingers clench painfully tight around his phone. "You think I don't know that? I got out of that elevator as fast as I could. I think he's too scared to file any charges, though."

Paul didn't seem too concerned with the charges, however. Instead, he focused in on the elevator. _"He was in the elevator?"_ A hum of agreement. _"With luggage?"_ Another. _"Do you know where he is going?"_ Brock didn't. _"Find out. I'll do what I can here to stall the movements of the child."_

"Thanks, Paul." Both knew that it was difficult for Brock to thank anyone, which made it all the more powerful. "I don't know what I would do without you."

_"I'm a good friend to have... and an even worse enemy."_ And with that, the 'walrus'-like man hung-up.

For a moment, after that call ended, Brock had a sinking feeling that was not unlike coming down from an adrenaline-induced high. Maybe all of this was a mistake. Maybe it was better to let the past remain just that - the past. He had no legal rights to Lachrymose, and if he attacked Adam, he very well could end up behind bars for life. And even as more thoughts like these filled his head, he shook them off. Paul was standing by him... it _had_ to be the right decision. With that thought, he grabbed his belongings and followed his lover out the door.


End file.
